Death Widow

Chapter 1: Shadows of the Past

The rain poured down in sheets, casting a rhythmic, unrelenting beat against the shattered windows of the abandoned building. Thunder rolled in the distance, and lightning would occasionally crack across the sky, illuminating the derelict walls for brief, haunting moments. Inside, hidden in the shadows, Y/N Belova waited in silence.

Her crouched form blended seamlessly with the darkness, but the storm raging outside was nothing compared to the tempest within her. Flashes of memory flickered in her mind—moments from a childhood that felt like a life someone else had lived. Voices haunted her, whispers of her sisters, Natasha and Yelena, and the echo of a past long buried but never truly forgotten.

A twisted smile crept across her face as she thought of the name Hydra had given her: *Death Widow.* As if stripping her of her name and her family wasn't enough, they'd branded her like one of their weapons, shaping her with experiments until she was no longer just Y/N Belova but a living weapon.

"How sweet of Hydra to think they can name me," she muttered, her voice a low hum of amusement, fingers curling in anticipation. She wasn't Hydra's weapon anymore. She was something else—something stronger, something untamable.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled her out of her thoughts. Her ears perked, her senses sharpened. Whoever was coming had stealth in their step but lacked the confidence of someone truly invisible. A smirk curled on her lips as she darted forward, moving like a shadow, silent and swift, her movements so fast they were a mere blur in the darkness.

Before her, Clint Barton—the Avenger known as Hawkeye—paused mid-step, the color draining from his face as his gaze met hers.

"Y/N…?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, laced with disbelief and horror.

The playful glint in her eyes sharpened, and she tilted her head, letting the silence stretch out, watching him squirm. After a beat, she answered with a grin, "That's *Death Widow* to you, Hawkeye."

He took a step back, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were filled with a sadness she hadn’t anticipated. It threw her off, if only for a moment, like a small crack in the armor she'd carefully pieced together over years of training and pain. She didn't want sympathy. She wanted anger, fear—something she could fight against.

"Y/N, it doesn’t have to be like this," he said, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. "I know Natasha left, but—"

"She left me to rot in Hydra’s hands!" Y/N’s voice cut through the room, carrying years of rage and hurt. "They got to play with me however they wanted. Experiment after experiment, injecting things, probing into my mind, tearing me apart piece by piece. And she never came back." Her fists clenched, raw power crackling around her, illuminating her face with a dangerous glow. "Why didn't she come back for me?"

Clint’s face softened, but he didn’t retreat. "She thought you were safe. She didn’t know—"

"She should have known!" Y/N’s voice dropped to a low hiss, her body trembling with barely controlled power. "The great Black Widow, and she didn't know her own sister was in Hydra's hands?"

Clint took a deep breath, looking her square in the eyes. "Y/N, Natasha never stopped looking. And when she found out… losing you destroyed her. She thought you were dead."

She froze at his words, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, something inside her wanting to believe, but her anger held strong, refusing to let her walls crumble. "*She thought I was dead?*" she echoed, as if the words were foreign to her.

Clint nodded. "And now she’s out there, somewhere, just hoping she’ll get to see you again. But if you keep down this path, I don’t know if there’s a future where that’s possible."

Y/N's face was a mask of emotion—anger, hurt, and something raw and uncertain. Her gaze flickered with indecision before she quickly masked it with a cold, sarcastic smirk. “Touching story, Hawkeye,” she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. “But I’m not here for family reunions. I’m here to take down anyone who stands in my way.”

A tense silence filled the air, broken only by the sound of the storm outside. Clint’s gaze softened, and for a brief moment, she saw something in his eyes she hadn’t seen since her sisters had escaped. It was hope, a light in the darkness that seemed almost out of place in this broken world she had built for herself.

"Y/N, this isn’t you," he said quietly. "The little girl who loved to sneak out with her sisters, who would do anything to make them laugh… she's still in there. I can see it."

Y/N’s expression faltered, and for a heartbeat, her icy exterior cracked. But just as quickly, she turned away, her gaze hardening.

“I buried that girl a long time ago,” she replied, her voice a whisper. “Hydra made sure of that.”

Without another word, she stepped back, letting the darkness swallow her form. Clint made no move to follow her, standing motionless as she disappeared into the shadows.

And as Y/N faded into the night, she couldn’t shake Clint’s words from her mind. The girl she used to be—the girl who dreamed of a future beyond Hydra—still lingered somewhere within her. But as she pushed the memory down, forcing her heart to go cold, she reminded herself of the only truth Hydra had left her with.

She wasn’t Y/N Belova anymore.